Instinct
by novemberskyox
Summary: I'm smarter, faster, and more experienced than you. I'm a hunter, and I will claim you. I won't mount your head to my wall, but I will drain you of every ounce of blood and toss you to the side like a finished juice box on a school playground."


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing at all. Credit goes to L. J. Smith for the creative production of the Vampire Diaries series. My Damon is based off of the Damon portrayed in Kevin Williamson's television show on the CW.

** Author's Note:** I was just inspired to write a story from Damon's perspective. It's kind of his general position of things. I don't really go into specific events that occurred in either the show or the books. I hope you enjoy it!

** Instinct**

_Driven by the strangled vein  
Showing no mercy I do it again  
Open up your eyes  
You keep on crying, baby  
Ill bleed you dry  
The skies are blinking at me  
I see a storm bubbling up from the sea  
_**Closer- Kings of Leon**

Palms are sweaty, the skin grows hot and cold, leaving it clammy, moist, and chilled. The sensation is unsettling, even uncomfortable. The jitters send your body into a roller coaster of reactions like that of an energy drink high and inevitable crash. It's all a big high that makes you feel alive as your heart thumps rapidly against the confines of your ribcage. It leaps feverishly to the base of your throat, causing the thin stretch of skin to jolt with each beat. Lungs tighten and constrict tightly as you gasp for oxygen. You feel every fiber of your being lit up like a firecracker, as if electrocuted. This is exactly what makes you feel alive, and it takes flirting with the prospects of death to experience it.

When placed in the throes of danger, it is human instinct to run. To channel all of that adrenaline and fear into the action of powering all of the muscles in your legs to carry you as far and as quickly as possibly away from said danger. No matter how tired you may feel, its that sense of danger that pumps the adrenaline to keep you pushing to survive, or at least try to survive. Your brain is clouded with thoughts of 'what ifs' and waves of emotions course over your being, but you aren't paying attention. You can't, because your focus is on one thing, and one thing only; to run. To run is to stay alive. And that's what makes you humans such predictable, pathetic, and utterly hopeless creatures.

Why is it, that you think running will save you? You run from your problems, but it always catches up with you. You can only go so far. Sure, it buys you some time, but it's no guarantee. There is no safe route, yet you foolishly try it each and every time. Avoidance will not make fate disappear. If you turn off your blinders, you only put yourself at a further disadvantage. Silly, fickle humans.

Did you also know that when you run from me, you are prepping yourself like a chef seasons a ribeye? You exercise your heart, increasing its rate thus pumping fresh blood through your throbbing, pulsing veins. I'm practically salivating at the thought. The scent of it is heightened, making you even more appetizing as you try to flee the grasps of your fate.

You know how certain homes have distinct smells? You walk inside and the familiar scent sets off signals through your brain that triggers certain memories. It could be a warm, cozy scent like that of fresh baked goodies and burning Yankee candles, or maybe it could be a muskier scent like sandalwood and burning fire. Whatever the case may be, each home has its own individual scent, just like every human's blood has a specific aroma, whether sweet, salty or otherwise. While fragrances may vary, not all vampires are very picky.

When you're hungry, you feed despite your personal preference. Besides, once you're dead and you have all of eternity to live with noting but plenty of time to spare, you'll try anything once.

I wasn't always a monster, you know. I had a soul once. I cared about people, and I loved. I was human. I loved with my heart and flesh, and I lived through thought of mind. My heart once beat, furiously against my chest as I chose to run. But I learned the hard way that running only brought you closer to danger, into death's hands onto Hell's doorstep. I had a life, and it was ripped away from me, and I wasn't asked whether or not I wanted to continue to live it. And neither will this woman.

She's running at a decent pace. Her long, chestnut locks sway wildly across her shoulders as she weaves through the trees of the forest. It's always in the forest. Think trees will protect you? Hide you from what's to come? Silly humans, don't you know that I'm a predator, and that you're my prey, and that I'm hungry enough to find you regardless of nature's obstacles?

I'm smarter, faster, and more experienced than you. I'm a hunter, and I will claim you. I won't mount your head to my wall, but I will drain you of every ounce of blood and toss you to the side like a finished juice box on a school playground.

She's panicked and salty tears flow freely from her cheeks. I could easily plant myself in front of her, grab a fist full of her curly tresses, and feast upon her pulsating jugular like a ravenous fiend. But what's the fun in that? It's all about the chase, you see.

_Mmm_, I can smell her now. It's a tangy scent with a kick of spice. I lick my lips imagining just how saucy she tastes. Something tells me she'll have a sweet after taste. She coughing, the cold air clenching her lungs. She's not much of an exerciser, so all this running is taking a toll on her. Weakening her muscles, but strengthening her heart. It's ripening her taste so that her veins will be juiced with fresh, delicious blood. I can hardly can't t sink my teeth into her mocha skin.

She's whimpering, eliciting little screams every now and then. I suppose she's releasing her terror in a more physical and verbal manner, but no one can hear her. We're deep in the forest, roughly four miles away from the nearest road. Who honestly goes hiking near dusk? Silly, naïve humans.

The hunger grows, but I'm patiently lurking by. This is my thrill. This is what makes me feel alive. The hunt. I didn't ask for this life, if you'd even call it that. I'd prefer eternal damnation. You humans romanticize vampirism. It's alluring and sexy to think about it, isn't it? To live forever. Well, it's not. And for you to even think otherwise makes you even more of a fool than I previously thought. At this rate, you humans lack any validity of possessing any sort of sense at all. You're practically worthless, which makes it even the more easier to prey upon you.

Sure, some of you fight back, and it's cute. You try so hard with your angry, balled fist swinging at my face or pounding against my chest. You only hurt yourself in the process, but it amuses me nonetheless. You kick or even throw objects, never thinking about my heightened speed and agility that enables me to dodge such advances. Sometimes, I let you believe that you've got me. Weaken me, even. I never tire of these games. It's all I have, so there has to be some way for me to liven it up.

She trips, ofcourse. Over a rock. On the way down, branches from a local brush cut into her arms, dragging it's ragged edges against her skin. Droplets of blood leak from the wounds, and I feel my fangs itching to penetrate her neck. In a second, I'm standing before her, looking down my nose as she begs and pleads for me to spare her. Her cheeks are stained with tears and mud as snot drips from her nose. Her long hair is disheveled with twigs and leaves nestled in those golden brown locks of tangled curls. If the scent of her blood wasn't so strong, I bet I would be able to smell the lavender and vanilla of her shampoo.

"Who are you?," she cried, trying to pull herself up, even though she knew that it was a lost cause. Such admirable yet futile attempts.

The real question should be 'What are you?'. Exposing my sharp incisors, I grinned menacingly, licking the fine points with my tongue.

"Please, please, please," she whispered, her bottom lip trembling. Her pale green eyes winced as they looked into my icy blue gaze. It was a hungry gaze, and she knew it.

"Shhh," I told her, pressing my forefinger to my lips. Kneeling down in front of her, I ran my fingertips over her forehead, where a line of blood trickled from a small gash, which she must have received from the rock. Bringing the droplet to my lips, I tasted the delicious life source, enjoying it's salty, sweet taste.

"Don't beg," I told her, her eyes pleading. "It won't take long. It'll sting at first, but then it will be over before you know it."

She recoiled, bowing her head before raising it again in one last effort to prolong the inevitable.

"Why are you doing this?," she asked.

Why do humans always ask that? Does it matter as to why I'm going to do what it is I'm going to do? It's going to happen regardless of whether or not you know the reasons behind it, if there are even reasons. Sometimes, there is an explanation. Besides, I don't have to explain myself. I just do.

I ran my hand through her hair, caressing the nape of her neck. Leaning forward, my eyes were on level with hers, and I whispered, "Because I can."

My hands gripped her hair, and she let out a wild cry. Jerking her head to the side, I licked the side of her neck, where I felt the pulsing vein jump against the skin. The beat of her heart hammered into my ear like a cacophony of beautiful melodies. It was like the sound of a drum roll leading up to the climax of a magic show. You know, the part right before the magician revealed the rabbit he could pull from the hat.

I grinned against her skin before I latched onto that sensitive area of her neck. I punctured the flesh with my sharp fangs, and the blood spurted into my mouth, flowing like a fountain. Over the years, I learned to tune out the sounds of the shrieking cries and focus on the thump of the heart. It was a comforting sound as it slowed from a rapid beat to a dull pump until there was no sound at all. I never drain them completely, even though I hate to waste such decadent food.

She goes limp in my arms, and I toss her to the side. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I watch as her lifeless slumps into the mud. She must have been about nineteen years old, but what do I know? I haven't been able to tell a human's age in a long, long time.

When you don't age, you hardly recognize how others do. That's not true at all. Of course you notice. And you envy that process. This is where the humans and I disagree. They romanticize about vampires and how they live forever. The glory or remaining young for all eternity. No wrinkles or liver spots. No arthritis or false teeth. Heaven forbid you ever get a gray hair. It doesn't sound so appealing, but when you no long have the opportunity to grow old, you want it. You crave it with all of your being.

I stopped thinking about it. It took over a hundred years, but I've learned to accept what I am. I'm not a monster, I just do what I have to do. Remember, I didn't chose this Hell. Katherine made me this way.

I have my reasons, but I don't have to explain a damn one of them to any of you.


End file.
